


The only one keeping me sane

by sshysmm



Category: Lymond Chronicles - Dorothy Dunnett
Genre: (which will later become more...), Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Female Friendship, Ficlet, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Prompt Fill, References to Graham Reid Malett, Tumblr Prompt, basically oonagh is having a horrible time, eating disorder alluded to, poisoning alluded to, thank goodness for marthe, the band Au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22990459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sshysmm/pseuds/sshysmm
Summary: Oonagh O'Dwyer has been at the Nevada ashram controlled by Graham Reid Malett for over a year. Separated form her son, dosed with antipsychotics against her knowledge, and lapsing into the eating disorders of her youth, she's pretty much given up all hope. Just in time, Francis Crawford and his band arrive to infiltrate Malett's organisation, among them the mysterious Marthe, who finds herself growing protective of Oonagh despite her accustomed cynicism.And if that sounds rough, let me point out that Oonagh lives in this AU and so it beats what happens to her in canon.Originally posted on tumblr.
Relationships: Marthe (Lymond Chronicles) & Oonagh O'Dwyer
Kudos: 3
Collections: Lymond fics set in the Band/'80s AU





	The only one keeping me sane

**Author's Note:**

  * For [word_docs_and_willowboughs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/word_docs_and_willowboughs/gifts).



In the warm darkness at the far end of the kitchen building Marthe found the other woman sitting with her hand over her eyes.

She had passed the man running the kitchen rota on her way in – a short, impatient guy with thinning hair and the kind of superiority complex Marthe recognised all too well. He had thrown his hands up and said something about “that lazy bitch” and told Marthe the washing would have to be finished within the hour, as there was a dinner taking place out at the studio.

Marthe gazed at Oonagh O’Dwyer, who did not appear to have noticed her entrance. She sat with careful stillness on a stool, her long legs folded beneath the thin drapery of her linen kaftan. Her wrists looked as thin and hard as the legs of the stool, and gooseflesh prickled her skin even in the midday heat.

Marthe ran the tap and poured her a glass of water.

“Hey, Ono, drink up,” she said softly.

Oonagh moved her hand but didn’t drop it from her face, and she blinked bright aquamarine eyes up at Marthe – a colour that seemed wholly out of place in that dusty brown setting. “My head hurts,” she said through a tight jaw, her hand wobbling in the air on its way to the glass Marthe offered.

“I bet,” Marthe folded her arms and glared out of the window at the cook. “Someone’s in a mood today.”

“He’s always like that. You can’t say it though, he’s one of Graham’s favourites.”

Marthe’s brows arced. “Do you know, I don’t think I’ve met a single person described as one of ‘Graham’s favourites’ who I didn’t detest?”

Oonagh managed a wan smile. “I live in his house, remember?”

Marthe bobbed to a crouch in front of her and accepted the half-drunk glass that Oonagh could not hold steady. She thought about squeezing her knee, offering a breezy gesture of comfort, but Oonagh looked thin enough to break if she did that. Marthe settled with resting her elbows on her own knees and peering up at Oonagh until she met Marthe’s eyes.

“Yeah, his most especial favourite. He sure reserves the finest for you: permanent dishes duty, private classes where he tells you you’re everything you should be afraid of, and threats of violence to your child. Sounds like a good deal.”

Oonagh tried to laugh, but she looked worried. “Don’t make trouble, _leannan_. I’m meant to be seeing Cai this week.”

“I don’t make trouble, I simply see it for what it is,” Marthe raised the glass and gently guided Oonagh to take another sip of water. She flinched, her eyes squeezed shut, but then she made herself draw a breath and relax, and she leaned her head a little against the touch of Marthe’s fingers.

“Oh Marthe. Sometimes I think you’re the one thing keeping me sane,” Oonagh sighed.


End file.
